http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/ Sun, 05 Feb 2012 13:06:40 +0000 MyBB http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433821 Sun, 15 May 2011 14:20:08 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433821 Terry]]> Terry]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433820 Sat, 05 Mar 2011 11:11:08 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433820
I have been using the "Sharpie" fine point markers, but cannot seem to do a good job at it. I have been spraying on 2 coats of clear wood finish, from A product called "Deft" before doing the bow writing.

Question. Whats the best markers to use for doing this procedure, and what brand names do you recommend?

Thankyou John from Chesterfield, Michigan]]>
I have been using the "Sharpie" fine point markers, but cannot seem to do a good job at it. I have been spraying on 2 coats of clear wood finish, from A product called "Deft" before doing the bow writing.

Question. Whats the best markers to use for doing this procedure, and what brand names do you recommend?

Thankyou John from Chesterfield, Michigan]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433819 Sun, 20 Feb 2011 05:27:59 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433819 Winter stumping in NH.

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Wild rose arrow finds the mark.

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Crooked bow was finished in January. It is an osage selfbow... 50# at 26 inches. The snowshoes are, of course, wooden and rawhide laced. They are Green Mountain snowshoes and I have had them since the 80's. Jawge
]]> Winter stumping in NH.

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Wild rose arrow finds the mark.

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Crooked bow was finished in January. It is an osage selfbow... 50# at 26 inches. The snowshoes are, of course, wooden and rawhide laced. They are Green Mountain snowshoes and I have had them since the 80's. Jawge
]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433815 Sun, 13 Feb 2011 09:04:55 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433815 You have a great magazine , "Traditional Archers World" which I have been taking since inception, and also for a couple of years when it was "The Bowyers Journal" from the previous owner.
I have one more issue due in the spring, so I will direct the wife to order two more years. Thankyou again John from Chesterfield, Michigan]]> You have a great magazine , "Traditional Archers World" which I have been taking since inception, and also for a couple of years when it was "The Bowyers Journal" from the previous owner.
I have one more issue due in the spring, so I will direct the wife to order two more years. Thankyou again John from Chesterfield, Michigan]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433814 Sat, 12 Feb 2011 10:40:33 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433814 http://tradarchersworld.com/index.html
for updates on the site.]]> http://tradarchersworld.com/index.html
for updates on the site.]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433813 Sat, 12 Feb 2011 10:36:43 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433813
The forums have been edited due to heavy abuse. For all you bowyers out there.. please continue to enjoy.

I have banned several users and deleted thousands of posts. All new members must be approved by mods and anyone caught abusing the forums again will be permanently banned - IP address and all.]]>
The forums have been edited due to heavy abuse. For all you bowyers out there.. please continue to enjoy.

I have banned several users and deleted thousands of posts. All new members must be approved by mods and anyone caught abusing the forums again will be permanently banned - IP address and all.]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433779 Wed, 09 Feb 2011 14:10:20 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3433779 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430114 Wed, 20 Oct 2010 20:13:12 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430114
Elsa Peretti (born May 1, 1940) is an Italian jewelry designer, a famous designer in tiffany jewelry .She was born in Florence, Italy, the daughter of a well-to-do Roman family. Educated at Volbicela School in Rome, with a diploma in interior design. In early jobs she was a French teacher in Gstaad,Switzerland,1961, a ski instructor and a model.She moved to New York in the 1960s, where she began designing UK jewelry for a handful of top designers, including Halston, Oscar de la Renta, Giorgio di Sant'Angelo and Tiffany & Co .Girls loves tiffany rings ,tiffany necklace from Elsa Peretti ,especially pendents, here is a gorgeous pendent designed by Elsa Peretti.

This magnificent Elsa Peretti? pendant has the feeling of fabulous finds—stone, silk, pearl—discovered in her travels to exotic places and shaped into wearable art. A 135-carat rubellite is the enchanting captive of a silk net created by master artisans in Kyoto, Japan. Finely woven threads crisscross the stone’s polished contours and flow into a great tassel of texture and movement. Accented with a Tahitian pearl, the pendant celebrates Elsa Peretti’s elegant simplicity and her creative use of centuries-old crafts.]]>
Elsa Peretti (born May 1, 1940) is an Italian jewelry designer, a famous designer in tiffany jewelry .She was born in Florence, Italy, the daughter of a well-to-do Roman family. Educated at Volbicela School in Rome, with a diploma in interior design. In early jobs she was a French teacher in Gstaad,Switzerland,1961, a ski instructor and a model.She moved to New York in the 1960s, where she began designing UK jewelry for a handful of top designers, including Halston, Oscar de la Renta, Giorgio di Sant'Angelo and Tiffany & Co .Girls loves tiffany rings ,tiffany necklace from Elsa Peretti ,especially pendents, here is a gorgeous pendent designed by Elsa Peretti.

This magnificent Elsa Peretti? pendant has the feeling of fabulous finds—stone, silk, pearl—discovered in her travels to exotic places and shaped into wearable art. A 135-carat rubellite is the enchanting captive of a silk net created by master artisans in Kyoto, Japan. Finely woven threads crisscross the stone’s polished contours and flow into a great tassel of texture and movement. Accented with a Tahitian pearl, the pendant celebrates Elsa Peretti’s elegant simplicity and her creative use of centuries-old crafts.]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430113 Thu, 14 Oct 2010 13:06:47 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430113
By: Rich Lopez

2009 ended in northing remarkable. A few drinks, some light food and in bed by 10 pm. This was the first time I did not stay up with my family to watch the Times Square festivities and Dick Clark’s appearance. 2010 came bright and early, a new decade offering new adventure. Today I would be leaving for a late season bow hunt in Illinois with South Fork Outfitters of Mendon.

My hunting partners are Bill Shaw, Holger Kray, and a New Jersey native by the name of Donnie who is a close friend of Bill’s. To bring you up to speed, On March 17th 2009, Bill was my guest at the annual Maryland Bowhunters Society banquet. Each year it is an event I look forward to with great anticipation of a good time. This year would not disappoint. Bill was perusing the raffle and chance games and decided to play a pick this card game where you picked a card it was torn in half and one of the halves was thrown into a bucket.

After a few hours of adult beverage and laughter, Bill had amassed a cache of prizes so much so it took 3 of us to carry it all to the truck. The moment had arrived. The card was pulled and the 6 of clubs was what was chosen. In Bill’s hand was the matching 6 of clubs. This was for a late season 7 day do-it yourself whitetail hunt with one of the premier whitetail out fits in the great “Golden Triangle” of west/central Illinois. Bill was just ecstatic, like a homeless person who just won the million dollar lottery. On this hunt he was allowed 3 friends to accompany him. Bill graciously asked me after we left the banquet and I eagerly agreed.

The majority of year was ahead of us and we finally acquired our Non-resident tags in June. Pricey to say the least, but for where we were going, well worth it! The summer came and went; our local season came and went. Here we are on January 1, 2010. My gear had been packed and organized for 2 weeks, the trip laid out on GPS and on paper. The trip is an estimated 16 hours. Nothing I want to do in one day at my middle age. The others also agreed. A layover was planned for that night in Indianapolis after 10 hours of driving.

On New Year’s Day, the gang arrived in my driveway bright and early; we loaded up Holger’s SUV and all fit nicely. Bills pick-up truck resembled the Beverly Hillbillies vehicle. The GPS is activated and down the road we go. Passing through the mountains of Western Maryland, we all decide to stop and fill up the tanks and relieve the bladders. We chose a small fuel and store combo in Flintstone. As we entered the facility, we are greeted by 3 women all resembling “Joe Dirt”. We hit the mother lode of Redneck She-male nirvana. Regardless, they were friendly and the bathroom was the cleanest I have ever abused.

We gather our coffee and snacks and off we go. My time with Holger was perhaps the most educational and entertaining I have ever experienced. Holger is in the US working for the World Bank and hails from, Germany. He has embraced our ways and hunting is his passion besides his lovely wife and daughter Maria. We shared hunting secrets, family stories, life’s stories, cultural stories, and general laughter and healthy banter.


Getting through the edge of Western Maryland into West Virginia and Pennsylvania came some light snow and generally crummy weather. We pressed onward. 10 hours later in the dark we arrive at the red Roof Inn in Indianapolis. As we pulled into the 1970’s vintage establishment, we notice a head peeping out of one of the hotel room windows. We immediately are on alert being in a big city known for high crime and seedy behavior especially on the professional football front.

On checking in we are offered the law enforcement discount. You see Bill is our resident law enforcement official so of course we felt the need to exploit his perks. The parking lot is covered in 2” thick ice and the temps are now well below zero and windy, snow begins to fall. As we gather our most precious gear and put it in our rooms we converge on Bill and Donnie’s room for beer and plans for dinner. Within minutes and like a vulture on a recent road kill, the same person we saw upon arriving at the hotel is at our front window waving to us holding up a cell phone. As “it” entered the room we inquire as to “its” needs. It turned out to be a woman with greasy hair in a pony tail sporting a huge widow’s peak. Her skin was grayish in tone but of pliable texture. Wearing the most seductive of attire, she was donning a men’s quilted red plaid flannel shirt and grey hooded sweat shirt beneath. In the front left pocket, was a pack of Marlboro reds and Newport’s. It is said, there is nothing like variety.

Below she sported red nylon basket ball shorts to the knees having equally grey skin toned legs with ankle socks and slippers. Her ankles where swollen and appeared as if they would explode at a moment’s notice. Mind you it is zero outside. I sized her up as being about 35-40 years of age. She brought her entourage with her. A younger decent looking blonde woman that appeared somewhat shady and loose in her stare. Dressed somewhat boyish with Adidas sneakers, tight jeans and a sweatshirt, she too was a friend of the nicotine stick. Nonetheless, “Lilly Munster” asked if she could use a cell phone to call a friend who was coming to see her at the hotel because she was terminally ill. She says she has cancer and she arrived at the hotel in a semi sand trailer that is parked across the street. Her claimed condition would account for the grey skin.

Immediately I am thinking “resident prostitute”. We respectfully declined but offer the room phone for a local call. With that, Bill in fine fashion has his .40 cal Sig Sauer handgun on the pillow of the bed he is sitting on. In plain view, he gingerly slides it under the pillow. The younger woman says “I see we may have interrupted something”. The older model is now visibly nervous as we all are standing around them. She accepts the invitation to the room phone and presses 5 numbers, pretends to have conversation, and then bids us farewell, never to be seen again. Bill’s keen Criminal Investigator skills kicked in as he checked with the front desk to find out that no calls were made from our phone.

The rest of the evening we noticed cars coming and going and young ladies walking up to them. My hunch was correct. Regardless, not to let a good time slip away, we head out for dinner. The area we wherein was pretty dead. But to no avail. In our last pass through the main drag, our partner Donnie (from New Jersey) noticed a speakeasy on a side road. In typical Jersey fashion, and with keen Jersey eye, there was a small corner bar promoting food and drink.

We pull up and hungrily enter. We are not disappointed. There were many pool tables, dart boards, and patrons most of which were typical Mid-Western women sporting heavy” frames”. Heck, you could even smoke in the bar. The only set back was the Indianapolis Colts displays. We were from Baltimore and in a Colt’s bar. Talk about ironic.

Immediately, Bill poured his charm with the locals. While conversing, he tried to educate the “large framed” Indy girls on how Indianapolis jilted Baltimore way more than Baltimore jilted Cleveland. Regardless, I ate the most fabulous fried Walleye. The bar bathroom will never be the same. For the next few hours, we carried on great conversation, great food and drink, and head back to turn in for the night.

Saturday morning we were up bright and early, and on the road. In 6 short hours we arrived at our destination of Mendon, Illinois. There was nothing but farms and fields forever. It was like being in a John Cougar Mellencamp song. Once we figured out where the actual main sector of the town was, we ventured into the South Fork headquarters and lodge. It turned out to be a renovated Masonic temple, which is a beautiful study in early 20th century architecture. The bedrooms are spaciously set up with modern bunk beds, wall to wall carpeting and good heat all throughout. The kitchen, bathrooms, showers, laundry, and living areas where clean , well thought out and modern with the main lodge living room walls adorned by world class bucks.

We were greeted by its owner-operator, Tad Peter. He is a young, energetic and enthusiastic entrepreneur who comes from a 5th generation and nationally recognized hog farming lineage. Very wise in the way of the whitetail and his operation is first class. Our first day, we are directed to the MBS farm just on the outskirts of town a few miles away. It is a lovely piece of a few hundred acres and full of promise. We gear up with aerial prints of the tract, and set out to scout the pre-set tree stands and locations. Within minutes we are seeing game but not in heavy concentration.

Fingers, bottoms, tangles, CRP, traditional hardwoods, and Pines jotted the landscape with stands in very well thought out positions to accommodate both bow and gun. From my perspective, stands 3 and 7 where the hot looking ones. There as about 6” of fresh powdery snow so track Identification was great. For all intensive purposes the deer where not hanging out on the farm. The tracks all dictated they were moving through. Tad had warned that due to the late season, the deer would be yarded up and they would be moving till they decided to take up on a particular farm to feed. Unfortunately this was not that farm. However as we scouted, we jumped a few doe deer and saw two Coyotes. One actually ran in front of the truck as we were leaving. The varmint stopped when we did to check us out. Bill tried his best lip squeak call, but the critter was frightened by Bill’s appearance and ran off into the brush with his magnificent coat intact. The evening was done and we returned to the lodge for dinner and drinks over great conversation in planning our next day’s hunt.

Sporting our best street attire we converged on the local hangout “The Mendon tap and Diner”. We were greeted with smiles and hellos from everyone we encountered. The owner is Rodney. He reminded me of the Captain from Gilligan’s Island only with a bigger belly, very friendly and accommodating. Prior to my arrival, a close friend who had hunted here, advised me to try the Mountain Oyster and Chicken Gizzard special… ahhh, no thanks. The evening went from just dinner and few drinks to “hey there’s another bar across the street”. The evening ended at 1:30 am.

Sunday morning brought a furiously cold minus 6 degree chill that would deter a Polar Bear. We are reluctantly up at 5:30 am. The weather station is warning against sever cold and dangerously cold wind chills. Holger is the first to get up and out. I am up but against my will. My head is pounding; the other two are still in their “gas chambers”. Holger bolts out for his hunt on the MBS farm in stand #2. He is back by 11 am with nothing seen in the report. By now the remaining three amigos have ingested aspirin and several cups of coffee. We are warmly greeted by our host Tad who is sporting a sheepish grin, knowing what we did last night.
In describing the MBS farm and what we have seen in travel patterns but no heavy herding at this time, he advises us that there is another farm of his on the other side of town we can use if we like. It is a premium tract of several hundred acres. He and his guides have several trail cam pictures of a 240” buck running the property. My ears perk up and I ask about land contours and the sort. After looking at an aerial map, I recognize it as a beautiful piece with several fingers and bottoms. We all set out with tad to eyeball the location. All I can say is there was sign everywhere. Bill and I head out to set up my Primos ground blind. Holger and Donnie are going to try the MBS farm that evening.
Upon parking we don our warmest clothing, walking the edge of a secluded CRP field; we take extra precaution in being real quiet. The winds are howling now with 15-20 mph gusts. On the ride in, the radio is saying the wind chill is minus 20, too damned cold for anything. We are now about 75 yards from a bottom where two fingers connect, separating fields. In the bottom there are Cedars and hardwoods a perfect mix to conceal a wily ole buck. I stop to survey my approach when all of a sudden the biggest buck I have ever seen stands up broadside. His main beams are way beyond his nose, buy his time are short and many. I hear Bill behind me say “holy S***!” The buck stood for what appeared 2 full minutes which in reality, was perhaps 30 seconds.
Had I had a gun, this would have ended differently. The buck turned and when he did the spread was simply magnificent at least 25” inside. He leapt and stopped again only to then trot away without snort or flag. His body was long and heavy. It took my breath away. Since we where busted we decided to go ahead and set up the blind just inside one of the fingers 20 yards from the intersection, and leave so as not to disturb the area any further.
After wiping up after ourselves, we got back to the truck. The wind was now gust at a steady 25mph, extremely poor bowhunting conditions offering consistent negative number temps. We head back to the lodge. Hey it’s Sunday and the Baltimore Raven’s are playing the Raiders in the last regular season game. Upon returning to the lodge, Tad and his family had prepared the adjacent banquet hall room for host a 60th wedding anniversary party for his grandparents. The place was packed and the lodge living room brought us new introductions to the peter family. Before you knew it half the family was watching football with us. Great times, new acquaintances made. About this time Donnie and Holger return totally frozen and wind burned. They thaw out and join us in the festivities. The night ends at 11 pm.
The next morning at 5:30, we are greeted with howling winds and ridiculous temps offering wind chill in the negative 30 mark. We are all in consensus that hanging off a tree in these conditions is for the mentally disturbed. We finally trek out at about noon in negative 5 degree temps and gusty wind to the new farm Tad told us about. We are all hunting both sides of the road on the property, me in my ground blind, Bill up from me several hundred yards in a finger bottom. Holger and Donnie are across from us in the back edge of a huge picked corn field. I am not in my ground blind 20 minutes, when I start seeing deer.
What I am seeing are small groups of does trotting through the cedars every 10-15 minutes. The wind is in my favor and I had not jumped anything going in. Finally about 3;15 pm I see a large form working its way through the bottom headed towards me. I gather my position in the blind with plenty of room. The shoot through netting was something that required getting used to, but I was ready. From behind me the deer trots to the back side of my blind and I whistle, I am at full draw and remember in the back of my head: I am hearing tad say, “the bucks are dropping antlers, and make sure if you shoot a doe, to size her up as it may be a large button buck which will be larger than what we see here in Maryland.”
The deer is standing broadside at 15 yards, and my heart is pounding so much so, I can feel my toes throb. The last few packs of doe I had seen where in groups of 4 and 5. This one was alone, had a thick chest and short nose. I am unsure and let down my draw. I am not paying a fine on a button buck as this farm is 140” minimum rule. Regardless, I am elated at the opportunity. As the day is waning, I start hearing the putting sounds of turkey. In the same area from where the deer came I witnessed a flock of about 25 turkeys working their way through the cedars. For a moment they hung around allowing me to study and marvel at the size of some of the Tom birds. The day comes to a bitterly cold but exciting end.
We withdraw at dark and head back to town for some warmth and liquid luxury. The food program is excellent to say the least. In the price of the week long stay, two meals are included. You may want to bring breakfast items. Lunch and dinner are the primary meals on the ticket, although the diner has an incredible breakfast spread at 6 am guaranteed to stop any heart. Tad gives his clients food tickets valued at $5.50 per ticket. You can order off the hunters menu and not have to pay anything towards you meal except a tip. Or you can double up on the tickets and pig out on a bevy of interesting and well priced items on the main menu. Either way you will never be hungry.
We chose to eat off the hunters menu and drink our desserts. The food to say the least was designed to stick to your ribs and leave you ready to sleep. I gained 8 pounds from the trip. We returned to the lodge at about 8 pm to watch hunting videos and the entire season of the 1966-67’ “Munsters” TV show that I had brought on DVD. In retrospect, I am sitting in the living area with my buddies actually thinking back to the days when I was single and I hunted Maine each year with my now brother in-law. The camaraderie was unparalleled. I was blessed to be such company and be blessed in having this hunting opportunity. I was on vacation, and I was totally at home. I did manage to learn some German from Holger and I taught him curse words in Spanish. It was a good exchange.


Holger and I were considered pretty much the organized planners of the group. I kept the lodge picked up and neat so as not to portray us as slobs. Although difficult with the food and drink we were consuming, we did pretty well. Holger was great in obtaining web based weather reports for the area with the use of the Internet and his blackberry. I was a whirlwind at washing dishes and providing bad jokes. Unfortunately January in central Illinois on the Mississippi River is a crap shoot at best weather-wise.
We continued to hunt the farm for a few days with many doe sightings, but no real bruisers. Besides the deer, we all saw plenty of Turkey and Coyotes galore in the area. Incidentally, Coyotes are hated by the locals so it was strongly urged to kill one if we saw one. Great with a firearm, but with bows in 22 mph winds, good luck!
Towards the end of the week we were greeted with an anticipated 8 inch dumping of snow and 30 mph winds. Hunting was bleak at best. We are scheduled to leave Saturday morning for home. Wednesday afternoon I return to my ground blind spot to pull it out. However, I want to try a spot nearby that gained my attention. This time I decide to sit in the finger bottom Bill had set up in earlier in the week. I choose a run that is tore up with tracks. It is a narrow section separating two CRP fields. It looked like a great bottleneck. I select a natural blow down that afforded me 3 lanes to shoot with excellent cover.
I am not set up more than 20 minutes when a buck and two doe’s trot down from the field and stop not 10 yards from me. Once he cleared the branches and twigs between us into my shooting lane, I let out an “urrrp” and come to full draw. I am able to make him out for a few short seconds and hold up. He is a decent buck with 4 points to one side but he is missing his other side. A 130 class buck for sure if he was intact. Rats! I let down my draw! The two does had already cleared the lanes so they where off the menu this time. The buck followed bounding away undisturbed. We all meet up at the lodge at about 11 for lunch.
Tad greets us for an update. We give him our report and he then says. “You know I got another farm you guys can hunt”. With that, he takes us to a farm a bit of a drive away. We arrive at a beautiful tract. It had a huge field, with many fingers and deep hardwoods. This is one of Tad’s best farms. He tells us that it is where the HS Strut Primetime videos are shot. The buck rule is 140 minimum. Tad gives us general directions on how to hunt it and advises to be quiet if we talk as the deer are in the deep chasms of the fingers in this windy cold weather. We head back for a quick lunch, review the aerial map and head out.
The wind is ridiculous now and the temps are at the negative 20 mark with wind chill. We drop Bill off at a fence line to get situated at a funnel area to the back of an open cut corn filed. He looks like a giant sloth bogged down with winter gear. Donnie, Holger and I drive around to the front of the farm to head across the huge snow field to our predetermined stands. Upon arriving we are greeted with a flock of about 50 turkeys being blown around in the field. We gather our gear and carry onward. One thing I have to say if it were not for Carol Davis thermal underwear and wool, I may have died here. This was not cold weather, it was stupid cold weather. Anyone hunting in this is an idiot. There were 4 of them out there today.
I arrive at my stand which is the crotch of two thin fingers that emptied into a ravine that was at least 60 yards deep. Immediately, I am seeing does moving along the edges across from me in another field they are moving fast into cover. The wind now is steady, no more gusts. An “Alberta clipper” is on the way from the North and we were on the edge of some really bad weather. There is a pack of Coyotes howling their heads off across the field I came in on. The sound is coming closer and closer. I am anticipating a Coyote kill any minute. I peer into the field and can barely make them out with the wind and snow blowing in my face. The trees are swaying like monster wind chimes creaking and cracking. The “yotes” are really skittish. They finally make up their minds and retreat into the woods they came out of. The hours seem like months in these conditions. We are now about 10 minutes to dark and the text messages are starting to come in. “this blows”, “I can’t feel my face”,” this sucks”, “headed to the truck, nothing moving”.
At dark we meet at the parking spot. I text Bill… “Coming to get you as soon as Donnie shows up”. He responds back, “Hurry up”. Holger and I are at the truck and we can barely make out Donnie at least half a mile away in the field. The wind and snow are throwing us around like ragdolls. Finally Donnie arrives and we converge on Bill’s position. We arrive at the drop off point and Bill is lying in the ditch at the roads edge. We get out finding him in a fetal position. He is barely coherent and stiff. He is experiencing the beginnings of Hypothermia. All this took place in about 20 minutes time. Bill is escorted to the truck where the heat is blasting and off we go back down the winding and icy roads. Drifts have now covered the road and it is difficult to tell what is road and what is ditch. In 20 minutes we arrive back at the lodge and our minds are made up to leave the next day with the worsening weather forecasted to reign down upon us.
We partially pack our gear and head out for the last supper. We end the evening back in the lodge about 9 pm. Tad came in and joined us for a beverage. We have great conversation and bonding with our host. We advise him of our exit a day early and he agrees that the weather will not produce much, if not at all. We shake hands and thank him for his generous hospitality and allowing us to hunt his “special farms”. He bids us farewell and it is determined we will be back for a rut hunt in the near future.
In the grand scheme of things, we had a fantastic time. The operation was par excellence. The weather was super bad. Lesson learned: come back in October or November. The ride home was long and weather laden. We survived one flat tire and realized where were nearing home as we entered Wheeling, West Virginia and its backward inhabitants. Nonetheless, we escaped without having to play a banjo or sit on anyone’s lap. As I finish this up, I am already making my plans for a revisit Illinois and South Fork Outfitters. Visit them at http://www.SouthForkHunts.com tell Tad I sent ya and you won’t be disappointed.]]>
By: Rich Lopez

2009 ended in northing remarkable. A few drinks, some light food and in bed by 10 pm. This was the first time I did not stay up with my family to watch the Times Square festivities and Dick Clark’s appearance. 2010 came bright and early, a new decade offering new adventure. Today I would be leaving for a late season bow hunt in Illinois with South Fork Outfitters of Mendon.

My hunting partners are Bill Shaw, Holger Kray, and a New Jersey native by the name of Donnie who is a close friend of Bill’s. To bring you up to speed, On March 17th 2009, Bill was my guest at the annual Maryland Bowhunters Society banquet. Each year it is an event I look forward to with great anticipation of a good time. This year would not disappoint. Bill was perusing the raffle and chance games and decided to play a pick this card game where you picked a card it was torn in half and one of the halves was thrown into a bucket.

After a few hours of adult beverage and laughter, Bill had amassed a cache of prizes so much so it took 3 of us to carry it all to the truck. The moment had arrived. The card was pulled and the 6 of clubs was what was chosen. In Bill’s hand was the matching 6 of clubs. This was for a late season 7 day do-it yourself whitetail hunt with one of the premier whitetail out fits in the great “Golden Triangle” of west/central Illinois. Bill was just ecstatic, like a homeless person who just won the million dollar lottery. On this hunt he was allowed 3 friends to accompany him. Bill graciously asked me after we left the banquet and I eagerly agreed.

The majority of year was ahead of us and we finally acquired our Non-resident tags in June. Pricey to say the least, but for where we were going, well worth it! The summer came and went; our local season came and went. Here we are on January 1, 2010. My gear had been packed and organized for 2 weeks, the trip laid out on GPS and on paper. The trip is an estimated 16 hours. Nothing I want to do in one day at my middle age. The others also agreed. A layover was planned for that night in Indianapolis after 10 hours of driving.

On New Year’s Day, the gang arrived in my driveway bright and early; we loaded up Holger’s SUV and all fit nicely. Bills pick-up truck resembled the Beverly Hillbillies vehicle. The GPS is activated and down the road we go. Passing through the mountains of Western Maryland, we all decide to stop and fill up the tanks and relieve the bladders. We chose a small fuel and store combo in Flintstone. As we entered the facility, we are greeted by 3 women all resembling “Joe Dirt”. We hit the mother lode of Redneck She-male nirvana. Regardless, they were friendly and the bathroom was the cleanest I have ever abused.

We gather our coffee and snacks and off we go. My time with Holger was perhaps the most educational and entertaining I have ever experienced. Holger is in the US working for the World Bank and hails from, Germany. He has embraced our ways and hunting is his passion besides his lovely wife and daughter Maria. We shared hunting secrets, family stories, life’s stories, cultural stories, and general laughter and healthy banter.


Getting through the edge of Western Maryland into West Virginia and Pennsylvania came some light snow and generally crummy weather. We pressed onward. 10 hours later in the dark we arrive at the red Roof Inn in Indianapolis. As we pulled into the 1970’s vintage establishment, we notice a head peeping out of one of the hotel room windows. We immediately are on alert being in a big city known for high crime and seedy behavior especially on the professional football front.

On checking in we are offered the law enforcement discount. You see Bill is our resident law enforcement official so of course we felt the need to exploit his perks. The parking lot is covered in 2” thick ice and the temps are now well below zero and windy, snow begins to fall. As we gather our most precious gear and put it in our rooms we converge on Bill and Donnie’s room for beer and plans for dinner. Within minutes and like a vulture on a recent road kill, the same person we saw upon arriving at the hotel is at our front window waving to us holding up a cell phone. As “it” entered the room we inquire as to “its” needs. It turned out to be a woman with greasy hair in a pony tail sporting a huge widow’s peak. Her skin was grayish in tone but of pliable texture. Wearing the most seductive of attire, she was donning a men’s quilted red plaid flannel shirt and grey hooded sweat shirt beneath. In the front left pocket, was a pack of Marlboro reds and Newport’s. It is said, there is nothing like variety.

Below she sported red nylon basket ball shorts to the knees having equally grey skin toned legs with ankle socks and slippers. Her ankles where swollen and appeared as if they would explode at a moment’s notice. Mind you it is zero outside. I sized her up as being about 35-40 years of age. She brought her entourage with her. A younger decent looking blonde woman that appeared somewhat shady and loose in her stare. Dressed somewhat boyish with Adidas sneakers, tight jeans and a sweatshirt, she too was a friend of the nicotine stick. Nonetheless, “Lilly Munster” asked if she could use a cell phone to call a friend who was coming to see her at the hotel because she was terminally ill. She says she has cancer and she arrived at the hotel in a semi sand trailer that is parked across the street. Her claimed condition would account for the grey skin.

Immediately I am thinking “resident prostitute”. We respectfully declined but offer the room phone for a local call. With that, Bill in fine fashion has his .40 cal Sig Sauer handgun on the pillow of the bed he is sitting on. In plain view, he gingerly slides it under the pillow. The younger woman says “I see we may have interrupted something”. The older model is now visibly nervous as we all are standing around them. She accepts the invitation to the room phone and presses 5 numbers, pretends to have conversation, and then bids us farewell, never to be seen again. Bill’s keen Criminal Investigator skills kicked in as he checked with the front desk to find out that no calls were made from our phone.

The rest of the evening we noticed cars coming and going and young ladies walking up to them. My hunch was correct. Regardless, not to let a good time slip away, we head out for dinner. The area we wherein was pretty dead. But to no avail. In our last pass through the main drag, our partner Donnie (from New Jersey) noticed a speakeasy on a side road. In typical Jersey fashion, and with keen Jersey eye, there was a small corner bar promoting food and drink.

We pull up and hungrily enter. We are not disappointed. There were many pool tables, dart boards, and patrons most of which were typical Mid-Western women sporting heavy” frames”. Heck, you could even smoke in the bar. The only set back was the Indianapolis Colts displays. We were from Baltimore and in a Colt’s bar. Talk about ironic.

Immediately, Bill poured his charm with the locals. While conversing, he tried to educate the “large framed” Indy girls on how Indianapolis jilted Baltimore way more than Baltimore jilted Cleveland. Regardless, I ate the most fabulous fried Walleye. The bar bathroom will never be the same. For the next few hours, we carried on great conversation, great food and drink, and head back to turn in for the night.

Saturday morning we were up bright and early, and on the road. In 6 short hours we arrived at our destination of Mendon, Illinois. There was nothing but farms and fields forever. It was like being in a John Cougar Mellencamp song. Once we figured out where the actual main sector of the town was, we ventured into the South Fork headquarters and lodge. It turned out to be a renovated Masonic temple, which is a beautiful study in early 20th century architecture. The bedrooms are spaciously set up with modern bunk beds, wall to wall carpeting and good heat all throughout. The kitchen, bathrooms, showers, laundry, and living areas where clean , well thought out and modern with the main lodge living room walls adorned by world class bucks.

We were greeted by its owner-operator, Tad Peter. He is a young, energetic and enthusiastic entrepreneur who comes from a 5th generation and nationally recognized hog farming lineage. Very wise in the way of the whitetail and his operation is first class. Our first day, we are directed to the MBS farm just on the outskirts of town a few miles away. It is a lovely piece of a few hundred acres and full of promise. We gear up with aerial prints of the tract, and set out to scout the pre-set tree stands and locations. Within minutes we are seeing game but not in heavy concentration.

Fingers, bottoms, tangles, CRP, traditional hardwoods, and Pines jotted the landscape with stands in very well thought out positions to accommodate both bow and gun. From my perspective, stands 3 and 7 where the hot looking ones. There as about 6” of fresh powdery snow so track Identification was great. For all intensive purposes the deer where not hanging out on the farm. The tracks all dictated they were moving through. Tad had warned that due to the late season, the deer would be yarded up and they would be moving till they decided to take up on a particular farm to feed. Unfortunately this was not that farm. However as we scouted, we jumped a few doe deer and saw two Coyotes. One actually ran in front of the truck as we were leaving. The varmint stopped when we did to check us out. Bill tried his best lip squeak call, but the critter was frightened by Bill’s appearance and ran off into the brush with his magnificent coat intact. The evening was done and we returned to the lodge for dinner and drinks over great conversation in planning our next day’s hunt.

Sporting our best street attire we converged on the local hangout “The Mendon tap and Diner”. We were greeted with smiles and hellos from everyone we encountered. The owner is Rodney. He reminded me of the Captain from Gilligan’s Island only with a bigger belly, very friendly and accommodating. Prior to my arrival, a close friend who had hunted here, advised me to try the Mountain Oyster and Chicken Gizzard special… ahhh, no thanks. The evening went from just dinner and few drinks to “hey there’s another bar across the street”. The evening ended at 1:30 am.

Sunday morning brought a furiously cold minus 6 degree chill that would deter a Polar Bear. We are reluctantly up at 5:30 am. The weather station is warning against sever cold and dangerously cold wind chills. Holger is the first to get up and out. I am up but against my will. My head is pounding; the other two are still in their “gas chambers”. Holger bolts out for his hunt on the MBS farm in stand #2. He is back by 11 am with nothing seen in the report. By now the remaining three amigos have ingested aspirin and several cups of coffee. We are warmly greeted by our host Tad who is sporting a sheepish grin, knowing what we did last night.
In describing the MBS farm and what we have seen in travel patterns but no heavy herding at this time, he advises us that there is another farm of his on the other side of town we can use if we like. It is a premium tract of several hundred acres. He and his guides have several trail cam pictures of a 240” buck running the property. My ears perk up and I ask about land contours and the sort. After looking at an aerial map, I recognize it as a beautiful piece with several fingers and bottoms. We all set out with tad to eyeball the location. All I can say is there was sign everywhere. Bill and I head out to set up my Primos ground blind. Holger and Donnie are going to try the MBS farm that evening.
Upon parking we don our warmest clothing, walking the edge of a secluded CRP field; we take extra precaution in being real quiet. The winds are howling now with 15-20 mph gusts. On the ride in, the radio is saying the wind chill is minus 20, too damned cold for anything. We are now about 75 yards from a bottom where two fingers connect, separating fields. In the bottom there are Cedars and hardwoods a perfect mix to conceal a wily ole buck. I stop to survey my approach when all of a sudden the biggest buck I have ever seen stands up broadside. His main beams are way beyond his nose, buy his time are short and many. I hear Bill behind me say “holy S***!” The buck stood for what appeared 2 full minutes which in reality, was perhaps 30 seconds.
Had I had a gun, this would have ended differently. The buck turned and when he did the spread was simply magnificent at least 25” inside. He leapt and stopped again only to then trot away without snort or flag. His body was long and heavy. It took my breath away. Since we where busted we decided to go ahead and set up the blind just inside one of the fingers 20 yards from the intersection, and leave so as not to disturb the area any further.
After wiping up after ourselves, we got back to the truck. The wind was now gust at a steady 25mph, extremely poor bowhunting conditions offering consistent negative number temps. We head back to the lodge. Hey it’s Sunday and the Baltimore Raven’s are playing the Raiders in the last regular season game. Upon returning to the lodge, Tad and his family had prepared the adjacent banquet hall room for host a 60th wedding anniversary party for his grandparents. The place was packed and the lodge living room brought us new introductions to the peter family. Before you knew it half the family was watching football with us. Great times, new acquaintances made. About this time Donnie and Holger return totally frozen and wind burned. They thaw out and join us in the festivities. The night ends at 11 pm.
The next morning at 5:30, we are greeted with howling winds and ridiculous temps offering wind chill in the negative 30 mark. We are all in consensus that hanging off a tree in these conditions is for the mentally disturbed. We finally trek out at about noon in negative 5 degree temps and gusty wind to the new farm Tad told us about. We are all hunting both sides of the road on the property, me in my ground blind, Bill up from me several hundred yards in a finger bottom. Holger and Donnie are across from us in the back edge of a huge picked corn field. I am not in my ground blind 20 minutes, when I start seeing deer.
What I am seeing are small groups of does trotting through the cedars every 10-15 minutes. The wind is in my favor and I had not jumped anything going in. Finally about 3;15 pm I see a large form working its way through the bottom headed towards me. I gather my position in the blind with plenty of room. The shoot through netting was something that required getting used to, but I was ready. From behind me the deer trots to the back side of my blind and I whistle, I am at full draw and remember in the back of my head: I am hearing tad say, “the bucks are dropping antlers, and make sure if you shoot a doe, to size her up as it may be a large button buck which will be larger than what we see here in Maryland.”
The deer is standing broadside at 15 yards, and my heart is pounding so much so, I can feel my toes throb. The last few packs of doe I had seen where in groups of 4 and 5. This one was alone, had a thick chest and short nose. I am unsure and let down my draw. I am not paying a fine on a button buck as this farm is 140” minimum rule. Regardless, I am elated at the opportunity. As the day is waning, I start hearing the putting sounds of turkey. In the same area from where the deer came I witnessed a flock of about 25 turkeys working their way through the cedars. For a moment they hung around allowing me to study and marvel at the size of some of the Tom birds. The day comes to a bitterly cold but exciting end.
We withdraw at dark and head back to town for some warmth and liquid luxury. The food program is excellent to say the least. In the price of the week long stay, two meals are included. You may want to bring breakfast items. Lunch and dinner are the primary meals on the ticket, although the diner has an incredible breakfast spread at 6 am guaranteed to stop any heart. Tad gives his clients food tickets valued at $5.50 per ticket. You can order off the hunters menu and not have to pay anything towards you meal except a tip. Or you can double up on the tickets and pig out on a bevy of interesting and well priced items on the main menu. Either way you will never be hungry.
We chose to eat off the hunters menu and drink our desserts. The food to say the least was designed to stick to your ribs and leave you ready to sleep. I gained 8 pounds from the trip. We returned to the lodge at about 8 pm to watch hunting videos and the entire season of the 1966-67’ “Munsters” TV show that I had brought on DVD. In retrospect, I am sitting in the living area with my buddies actually thinking back to the days when I was single and I hunted Maine each year with my now brother in-law. The camaraderie was unparalleled. I was blessed to be such company and be blessed in having this hunting opportunity. I was on vacation, and I was totally at home. I did manage to learn some German from Holger and I taught him curse words in Spanish. It was a good exchange.


Holger and I were considered pretty much the organized planners of the group. I kept the lodge picked up and neat so as not to portray us as slobs. Although difficult with the food and drink we were consuming, we did pretty well. Holger was great in obtaining web based weather reports for the area with the use of the Internet and his blackberry. I was a whirlwind at washing dishes and providing bad jokes. Unfortunately January in central Illinois on the Mississippi River is a crap shoot at best weather-wise.
We continued to hunt the farm for a few days with many doe sightings, but no real bruisers. Besides the deer, we all saw plenty of Turkey and Coyotes galore in the area. Incidentally, Coyotes are hated by the locals so it was strongly urged to kill one if we saw one. Great with a firearm, but with bows in 22 mph winds, good luck!
Towards the end of the week we were greeted with an anticipated 8 inch dumping of snow and 30 mph winds. Hunting was bleak at best. We are scheduled to leave Saturday morning for home. Wednesday afternoon I return to my ground blind spot to pull it out. However, I want to try a spot nearby that gained my attention. This time I decide to sit in the finger bottom Bill had set up in earlier in the week. I choose a run that is tore up with tracks. It is a narrow section separating two CRP fields. It looked like a great bottleneck. I select a natural blow down that afforded me 3 lanes to shoot with excellent cover.
I am not set up more than 20 minutes when a buck and two doe’s trot down from the field and stop not 10 yards from me. Once he cleared the branches and twigs between us into my shooting lane, I let out an “urrrp” and come to full draw. I am able to make him out for a few short seconds and hold up. He is a decent buck with 4 points to one side but he is missing his other side. A 130 class buck for sure if he was intact. Rats! I let down my draw! The two does had already cleared the lanes so they where off the menu this time. The buck followed bounding away undisturbed. We all meet up at the lodge at about 11 for lunch.
Tad greets us for an update. We give him our report and he then says. “You know I got another farm you guys can hunt”. With that, he takes us to a farm a bit of a drive away. We arrive at a beautiful tract. It had a huge field, with many fingers and deep hardwoods. This is one of Tad’s best farms. He tells us that it is where the HS Strut Primetime videos are shot. The buck rule is 140 minimum. Tad gives us general directions on how to hunt it and advises to be quiet if we talk as the deer are in the deep chasms of the fingers in this windy cold weather. We head back for a quick lunch, review the aerial map and head out.
The wind is ridiculous now and the temps are at the negative 20 mark with wind chill. We drop Bill off at a fence line to get situated at a funnel area to the back of an open cut corn filed. He looks like a giant sloth bogged down with winter gear. Donnie, Holger and I drive around to the front of the farm to head across the huge snow field to our predetermined stands. Upon arriving we are greeted with a flock of about 50 turkeys being blown around in the field. We gather our gear and carry onward. One thing I have to say if it were not for Carol Davis thermal underwear and wool, I may have died here. This was not cold weather, it was stupid cold weather. Anyone hunting in this is an idiot. There were 4 of them out there today.
I arrive at my stand which is the crotch of two thin fingers that emptied into a ravine that was at least 60 yards deep. Immediately, I am seeing does moving along the edges across from me in another field they are moving fast into cover. The wind now is steady, no more gusts. An “Alberta clipper” is on the way from the North and we were on the edge of some really bad weather. There is a pack of Coyotes howling their heads off across the field I came in on. The sound is coming closer and closer. I am anticipating a Coyote kill any minute. I peer into the field and can barely make them out with the wind and snow blowing in my face. The trees are swaying like monster wind chimes creaking and cracking. The “yotes” are really skittish. They finally make up their minds and retreat into the woods they came out of. The hours seem like months in these conditions. We are now about 10 minutes to dark and the text messages are starting to come in. “this blows”, “I can’t feel my face”,” this sucks”, “headed to the truck, nothing moving”.
At dark we meet at the parking spot. I text Bill… “Coming to get you as soon as Donnie shows up”. He responds back, “Hurry up”. Holger and I are at the truck and we can barely make out Donnie at least half a mile away in the field. The wind and snow are throwing us around like ragdolls. Finally Donnie arrives and we converge on Bill’s position. We arrive at the drop off point and Bill is lying in the ditch at the roads edge. We get out finding him in a fetal position. He is barely coherent and stiff. He is experiencing the beginnings of Hypothermia. All this took place in about 20 minutes time. Bill is escorted to the truck where the heat is blasting and off we go back down the winding and icy roads. Drifts have now covered the road and it is difficult to tell what is road and what is ditch. In 20 minutes we arrive back at the lodge and our minds are made up to leave the next day with the worsening weather forecasted to reign down upon us.
We partially pack our gear and head out for the last supper. We end the evening back in the lodge about 9 pm. Tad came in and joined us for a beverage. We have great conversation and bonding with our host. We advise him of our exit a day early and he agrees that the weather will not produce much, if not at all. We shake hands and thank him for his generous hospitality and allowing us to hunt his “special farms”. He bids us farewell and it is determined we will be back for a rut hunt in the near future.
In the grand scheme of things, we had a fantastic time. The operation was par excellence. The weather was super bad. Lesson learned: come back in October or November. The ride home was long and weather laden. We survived one flat tire and realized where were nearing home as we entered Wheeling, West Virginia and its backward inhabitants. Nonetheless, we escaped without having to play a banjo or sit on anyone’s lap. As I finish this up, I am already making my plans for a revisit Illinois and South Fork Outfitters. Visit them at http://www.SouthForkHunts.com tell Tad I sent ya and you won’t be disappointed.]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430112 Thu, 14 Oct 2010 12:54:34 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430112
Another year of high stress and work related depression, I am ready for a few days of R&R on my favorite hunting grounds. I am headed down my lease on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. It is several hundred acres of prime land. Mostly thick stands of loblolly pine, and small tracts of hardwoods harboring a few decent stands of oak trees. In the center of it all, is a 200 acre field. We have12 members in our hunt club, and only 3 of us bowhunt. This is a luxury beyond all others. This evening I am picked up by our newest member “Bob”.. a 70 year old horse ranch owner. His new name to some of us in the club is now ” Weird Bob”.

Super nice guy, very intelligent, but has zero common sense when it comes to hunting.
Does not use a safety harness in a tree stand ( I gave him brand new one to use from now on), carries his arrows in a tote bag and the cable on his free compound bow was not even on the slide bar (since fixed that). I was literally training him most of the time we are driving. The entire time I would explain procedure and the how and why of deer behavior… he would look at me with that cocked head look.

Nonetheless… we arrive at out favorite motel that is run by “Ragii the Magnificent”, a curly haired Pakistani who fancies himself as the next Michael Jackson. The facility is dated ala 1980’s and the upkeep is subpar ala middle east. After a good nights rest, we get up at 4:30 and head to the property. Headed down the gravel road, deer are crossing every 50 feet… we have to go slow for fear of a collision. Finally we park in a clearing not 10 0yards from the mouth of the field. It is a nice cool 45 degrees. The stars lit up the sky as if we were in a Planetarium. It was simply beautiful.

Bob asks. So where are you going, I advised waaaay on the other side of the property to an area I recently y scouted out. Bob states he would like to use the “T-stand”. This stand is my stand that is set up purely for gun usage. It is a 3 way intersection of logging roads
offering 150 yard shots either way. I ask him, why not use “your” stand..? He shrugs his shoulders and sates I don’t know” I am mortified. I state if you are going to use my stand you better use the harness I gave you otherwise it is off limits. Again, the look. Anyway, he puts it on with my help. Off he goes into the black abyss of the night…without a flash light. Jeez,

I ease across the field for about 1 mile into a loblolly stand that opens up into a stand of saplings, Holly trees, and oaks along an old logging road. I arrive at my stand which is a Loc on and climbing sticks I had put up last season. I inspect all the straps with my light and all are secure. Easing onto the platform I haul up my 1974 Black Widow H1225 recurve bow, and hang it on my EZ hanger bar. I sit in the calm night. The sounds of the evening creatures fill my mind with illusions of mystery and suspense. It is eerie to say the least. After a few prayer of thanks to the man above, I am now in hunt mode, my eyes and ears at their peak of function.



The morning light comes in at about 6:30 am. My older eyes cannot make out shootable objects until about 6:50. As anticipated, I see an image picking its way through the saplings about 80 yards out. It is a lone doe. She is large in stature, mature, and coming fast with intent.

I slowly rise from my perch right hand is taught on the bow string, if all goes well she will pass by at 15 yards. Not so. For some reason she stops scans the area and goes to my left and behind me at 40 yards. My shot opportunity is lost. Not once was she spooked or ever sensed danger in the treetops. I am puzzled. Nonetheless, I regain my seated ritual. Now it is 9:15 am. I hear the churning of leaves as if people are walking toward me at a rapid pace. Tow yearling does are on a mission headed the same way the lone doe came earlier. I am wondering, “where’s momma”?

They are off to my right about 60 yards and moving quickly through the woods. They immediately hit the logging road I came in on and then on a dead run, they fly past me stopping to my left now within my effective range. They are so cute I just want to hug them (pun). I decide not to shoot as they are just too small for my standards on this lease, and appear to be orphaned. They are just about to go into the loblolly thicket when I uuurp. They freeze. For about 20 minutes I watched them frozen in their own time. Their ears were like radar dishes moving back and forth wondering what that noise was. Then it hit me…like a thirst I cannot avoid. The thirst is blood. One doe is to my left at about 15 yards quartering away. I have a 12” window between two large trees. I raise and draw my bow in one fluid motion. My right hand hits the corner of my mouth and “Phhht” the arrow is gone. The aluminum 2018 arrow tipped with vintage Anderson 245 broadhead is on its way. It was surreal to watch the arrow headed towards the deer. It was as if I was watching super slow motion on ESPN.

Thwack was the resounding noise that jolted me from my trance like fixation. At the sound I look and see the arrow embedded in the side of a tree. It appears the arrow made a left turn and into the tree at the deer’s rear end. Buried into the bark by 2”, the arrow took a detour as it encountered an unseen branch. The deer jumped wildly at the obnoxious sound and loped into the wood line about 20 more yards staring back as if it was goosed by an invisible hand. I sat in disbelief as it all felt perfect. I had that deer on my BBQ before I even loosed the arrow. After a few moments the deer began to come back to the scene of the crime. However, its instincts took over and decided to retreat in to the thickness of the loblolly stand.

At 10 am I descended to the forest floor to sure up another stand I had on the opposite side of the field in hopes that the evening would prove eventful and perhaps successful. After putting on a few miles still hunting and checking other areas I frequent, I returned to camp top join Weird Bob for lunch. PBJ, chips, and water where on the menu. Not the greatest, but it offers the protein I need to keep me going on stand. At 1 pm Bob says he is going to sit on the field edge in his beach chair to see if a deer comes out. The temperature is now a balmy 78 degrees. Where he is going, the wind will be blowing his scent into the woods. Now I am looking at him with the cocked head look.

I bid Bob farewell shaking my head ruefully. He heads off into the sunlit field wearing blue jeans and new balance tennis shoes, carrying a red white and blue chair. I want to open a vein.

After my lunchtime constitutional, I begin my evening stand at about 2pm. I head back slowly, still hunting my stand in an Oak flat. The afternoon is hot and I am sweaty in my ascent to the tree tops. Finally I settle in and await my intended prey. 500 squirrels later and a few Stink bug attacks. I am at the base of my tree in the nearing darkness of night. Not a deer was seen. I ease out to the field edge to see the field loaded with about 20-30 deer and no bucks to speak of. I see Bob’s silhouette walking across the darkening field I want to launch an arrow. As anticipated the field erupts with eh flurry of snorts and white tails flying back into the woods. I head back to the truck muttering profanities in Spanish.

The next day would prove to be about the same as this one only this time my longtime partner John arrives. Bob goes onto hunt in his wayward fashion, John and I take off to our spots and enjoy the day. Many deer seen in the woods, none close enough for a shot. Only one buck worthy of an arrow seen cruising on the edge of my set just out of range.
Only one rub seen and several scrapes where they are every year are staring to open up. John set up on one huge smoking scrape in hopes the boy who made it would appear at dark. But no luck. .the day ends with the ride home in John’s rig planning the next adventure. Bob was last seen washing his dentures in coffee. Until next time.

Oh yeah.. Weird Bob also could not find his cell phone, we tore apart the hotel room and called his cell several times but no noise. The first day I told him to put it on vibrate so i can keep him posted via text. After 1 hour tearing apart the truck and the room ...I ask Bob..what is that on your belt.?....
That night, John and I put 3 stink bugs in his duffel bag

Post script: I asked Bob if he had used the outhouse, he said no cause the roof was collapsed... (all it took was minor effort to remove the sheet of rotted plywood and the commode was usable). I then asked..hey we've been here two days I know you had to evacuate somewhere, ...Bob again cocking his head say's.."oh yeah just over there" pointing to the trail we walk on.....

John texted me last night that he had dog crap on his boots and has no idea how it got there as we have no dogs in the area...]]>
Another year of high stress and work related depression, I am ready for a few days of R&R on my favorite hunting grounds. I am headed down my lease on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. It is several hundred acres of prime land. Mostly thick stands of loblolly pine, and small tracts of hardwoods harboring a few decent stands of oak trees. In the center of it all, is a 200 acre field. We have12 members in our hunt club, and only 3 of us bowhunt. This is a luxury beyond all others. This evening I am picked up by our newest member “Bob”.. a 70 year old horse ranch owner. His new name to some of us in the club is now ” Weird Bob”.

Super nice guy, very intelligent, but has zero common sense when it comes to hunting.
Does not use a safety harness in a tree stand ( I gave him brand new one to use from now on), carries his arrows in a tote bag and the cable on his free compound bow was not even on the slide bar (since fixed that). I was literally training him most of the time we are driving. The entire time I would explain procedure and the how and why of deer behavior… he would look at me with that cocked head look.

Nonetheless… we arrive at out favorite motel that is run by “Ragii the Magnificent”, a curly haired Pakistani who fancies himself as the next Michael Jackson. The facility is dated ala 1980’s and the upkeep is subpar ala middle east. After a good nights rest, we get up at 4:30 and head to the property. Headed down the gravel road, deer are crossing every 50 feet… we have to go slow for fear of a collision. Finally we park in a clearing not 10 0yards from the mouth of the field. It is a nice cool 45 degrees. The stars lit up the sky as if we were in a Planetarium. It was simply beautiful.

Bob asks. So where are you going, I advised waaaay on the other side of the property to an area I recently y scouted out. Bob states he would like to use the “T-stand”. This stand is my stand that is set up purely for gun usage. It is a 3 way intersection of logging roads
offering 150 yard shots either way. I ask him, why not use “your” stand..? He shrugs his shoulders and sates I don’t know” I am mortified. I state if you are going to use my stand you better use the harness I gave you otherwise it is off limits. Again, the look. Anyway, he puts it on with my help. Off he goes into the black abyss of the night…without a flash light. Jeez,

I ease across the field for about 1 mile into a loblolly stand that opens up into a stand of saplings, Holly trees, and oaks along an old logging road. I arrive at my stand which is a Loc on and climbing sticks I had put up last season. I inspect all the straps with my light and all are secure. Easing onto the platform I haul up my 1974 Black Widow H1225 recurve bow, and hang it on my EZ hanger bar. I sit in the calm night. The sounds of the evening creatures fill my mind with illusions of mystery and suspense. It is eerie to say the least. After a few prayer of thanks to the man above, I am now in hunt mode, my eyes and ears at their peak of function.



The morning light comes in at about 6:30 am. My older eyes cannot make out shootable objects until about 6:50. As anticipated, I see an image picking its way through the saplings about 80 yards out. It is a lone doe. She is large in stature, mature, and coming fast with intent.

I slowly rise from my perch right hand is taught on the bow string, if all goes well she will pass by at 15 yards. Not so. For some reason she stops scans the area and goes to my left and behind me at 40 yards. My shot opportunity is lost. Not once was she spooked or ever sensed danger in the treetops. I am puzzled. Nonetheless, I regain my seated ritual. Now it is 9:15 am. I hear the churning of leaves as if people are walking toward me at a rapid pace. Tow yearling does are on a mission headed the same way the lone doe came earlier. I am wondering, “where’s momma”?

They are off to my right about 60 yards and moving quickly through the woods. They immediately hit the logging road I came in on and then on a dead run, they fly past me stopping to my left now within my effective range. They are so cute I just want to hug them (pun). I decide not to shoot as they are just too small for my standards on this lease, and appear to be orphaned. They are just about to go into the loblolly thicket when I uuurp. They freeze. For about 20 minutes I watched them frozen in their own time. Their ears were like radar dishes moving back and forth wondering what that noise was. Then it hit me…like a thirst I cannot avoid. The thirst is blood. One doe is to my left at about 15 yards quartering away. I have a 12” window between two large trees. I raise and draw my bow in one fluid motion. My right hand hits the corner of my mouth and “Phhht” the arrow is gone. The aluminum 2018 arrow tipped with vintage Anderson 245 broadhead is on its way. It was surreal to watch the arrow headed towards the deer. It was as if I was watching super slow motion on ESPN.

Thwack was the resounding noise that jolted me from my trance like fixation. At the sound I look and see the arrow embedded in the side of a tree. It appears the arrow made a left turn and into the tree at the deer’s rear end. Buried into the bark by 2”, the arrow took a detour as it encountered an unseen branch. The deer jumped wildly at the obnoxious sound and loped into the wood line about 20 more yards staring back as if it was goosed by an invisible hand. I sat in disbelief as it all felt perfect. I had that deer on my BBQ before I even loosed the arrow. After a few moments the deer began to come back to the scene of the crime. However, its instincts took over and decided to retreat in to the thickness of the loblolly stand.

At 10 am I descended to the forest floor to sure up another stand I had on the opposite side of the field in hopes that the evening would prove eventful and perhaps successful. After putting on a few miles still hunting and checking other areas I frequent, I returned to camp top join Weird Bob for lunch. PBJ, chips, and water where on the menu. Not the greatest, but it offers the protein I need to keep me going on stand. At 1 pm Bob says he is going to sit on the field edge in his beach chair to see if a deer comes out. The temperature is now a balmy 78 degrees. Where he is going, the wind will be blowing his scent into the woods. Now I am looking at him with the cocked head look.

I bid Bob farewell shaking my head ruefully. He heads off into the sunlit field wearing blue jeans and new balance tennis shoes, carrying a red white and blue chair. I want to open a vein.

After my lunchtime constitutional, I begin my evening stand at about 2pm. I head back slowly, still hunting my stand in an Oak flat. The afternoon is hot and I am sweaty in my ascent to the tree tops. Finally I settle in and await my intended prey. 500 squirrels later and a few Stink bug attacks. I am at the base of my tree in the nearing darkness of night. Not a deer was seen. I ease out to the field edge to see the field loaded with about 20-30 deer and no bucks to speak of. I see Bob’s silhouette walking across the darkening field I want to launch an arrow. As anticipated the field erupts with eh flurry of snorts and white tails flying back into the woods. I head back to the truck muttering profanities in Spanish.

The next day would prove to be about the same as this one only this time my longtime partner John arrives. Bob goes onto hunt in his wayward fashion, John and I take off to our spots and enjoy the day. Many deer seen in the woods, none close enough for a shot. Only one buck worthy of an arrow seen cruising on the edge of my set just out of range.
Only one rub seen and several scrapes where they are every year are staring to open up. John set up on one huge smoking scrape in hopes the boy who made it would appear at dark. But no luck. .the day ends with the ride home in John’s rig planning the next adventure. Bob was last seen washing his dentures in coffee. Until next time.

Oh yeah.. Weird Bob also could not find his cell phone, we tore apart the hotel room and called his cell several times but no noise. The first day I told him to put it on vibrate so i can keep him posted via text. After 1 hour tearing apart the truck and the room ...I ask Bob..what is that on your belt.?....
That night, John and I put 3 stink bugs in his duffel bag

Post script: I asked Bob if he had used the outhouse, he said no cause the roof was collapsed... (all it took was minor effort to remove the sheet of rotted plywood and the commode was usable). I then asked..hey we've been here two days I know you had to evacuate somewhere, ...Bob again cocking his head say's.."oh yeah just over there" pointing to the trail we walk on.....

John texted me last night that he had dog crap on his boots and has no idea how it got there as we have no dogs in the area...]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430111 Wed, 06 Oct 2010 11:58:55 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430111
ive done a lot of research and have gotten A LOT of information that is all kind of confusing so i was wondeing if you guys could give me some help.

ive decided on a flatbow thats 62" long and idealy 45-55 pounds at 29 inches. im thinking of using oak if going the route of a stave because that seems to be the most readily available and easily identifiable wood in my area. i may however get a board from the lumber yard and go from there. if anyone has advice on what wood i should use and whether i should go with a board or stave thatd be great. also i need some help with dimensions ive seen alot of different stuff out there im not sure which to go with. thanks for taking the time to help guys i really appreciate it. im using all primitive hand tools that i have yet to go out and buy so any insight as to what i should get would be awesome

also i had a few basic questions on the mechanics of the bow.

is the "depth" of the limbs (the width of the limb as you look at it from the side view) going to taper? or is it going to remain the same exact width all the way to the nock with a completely flat profile, with the taper being exclusively from the 2 sides of the limbs from the front view

also im wondering what exactly determines the draw weight? how thick the limbs are?

and what size string should i use for a bow of these specifications?

also ive been really confused on the idea of surfacing one growth ring on the back of the bow. its my understanding this is done only on a character bow? what is a character bow?]]>
ive done a lot of research and have gotten A LOT of information that is all kind of confusing so i was wondeing if you guys could give me some help.

ive decided on a flatbow thats 62" long and idealy 45-55 pounds at 29 inches. im thinking of using oak if going the route of a stave because that seems to be the most readily available and easily identifiable wood in my area. i may however get a board from the lumber yard and go from there. if anyone has advice on what wood i should use and whether i should go with a board or stave thatd be great. also i need some help with dimensions ive seen alot of different stuff out there im not sure which to go with. thanks for taking the time to help guys i really appreciate it. im using all primitive hand tools that i have yet to go out and buy so any insight as to what i should get would be awesome

also i had a few basic questions on the mechanics of the bow.

is the "depth" of the limbs (the width of the limb as you look at it from the side view) going to taper? or is it going to remain the same exact width all the way to the nock with a completely flat profile, with the taper being exclusively from the 2 sides of the limbs from the front view

also im wondering what exactly determines the draw weight? how thick the limbs are?

and what size string should i use for a bow of these specifications?

also ive been really confused on the idea of surfacing one growth ring on the back of the bow. its my understanding this is done only on a character bow? what is a character bow?]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430110 Sun, 26 Sep 2010 13:42:51 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430110
Thsi was my first for 2010. Still hunting during the Urban Zone season in Indiana.

]]>
Thsi was my first for 2010. Still hunting during the Urban Zone season in Indiana.

]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430107 Sat, 10 Jul 2010 13:50:52 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430107 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430106 Sat, 26 Jun 2010 08:03:21 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430106 I've used one off and on for years. Have any of you used the Eagles Flight bow quiver? I shoot a 60 inch hybrid and I'm thinking about going to a small [3 arrow] quiver.

Thanks.]]> I've used one off and on for years. Have any of you used the Eagles Flight bow quiver? I shoot a 60 inch hybrid and I'm thinking about going to a small [3 arrow] quiver.

Thanks.]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430105 Mon, 21 Jun 2010 21:14:57 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430105
In the past I worked as a cabinetmaker, and we glued up lengths of lumber to make panels for various kinds of projects. One of the things I've wanted to do in traditional archery is make a Holmgaard style bow. It seems to me that if I took a couple of pieces for a handle (a front and a back), a couple of wide flat pieces for the working parts of the limbs, and another couple of pieces for the non-working limb ends, that I should be able to glue them together and have a very reasonable bow blank that would take a minimum of hand work to complete.

Anyone here with past experience doing a project like this??

Lobo in the Mountains of West Virginia]]>
In the past I worked as a cabinetmaker, and we glued up lengths of lumber to make panels for various kinds of projects. One of the things I've wanted to do in traditional archery is make a Holmgaard style bow. It seems to me that if I took a couple of pieces for a handle (a front and a back), a couple of wide flat pieces for the working parts of the limbs, and another couple of pieces for the non-working limb ends, that I should be able to glue them together and have a very reasonable bow blank that would take a minimum of hand work to complete.

Anyone here with past experience doing a project like this??

Lobo in the Mountains of West Virginia]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430104 Sat, 19 Jun 2010 06:38:36 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430104
I'm a long time poster over on Tradgang. I learned to shoot the bow at Boy Scout summer camp when I was twelve (that would be forty eight years ago), and have been a life long traditional archer. For years and years I shot a Bear Kodiak Magnum until it was damaged in the move from New Mexico back to West Virginia. These days I'm shooting a Tomahawk Diamond TD.... 50# @ 28".

Lobo in the Mountains of West Virginia]]>
I'm a long time poster over on Tradgang. I learned to shoot the bow at Boy Scout summer camp when I was twelve (that would be forty eight years ago), and have been a life long traditional archer. For years and years I shot a Bear Kodiak Magnum until it was damaged in the move from New Mexico back to West Virginia. These days I'm shooting a Tomahawk Diamond TD.... 50# @ 28".

Lobo in the Mountains of West Virginia]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430103 Wed, 24 Mar 2010 11:29:42 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430103
The Faribault MN Archery Club is holding the 1st annual Kyle Nardinger Memorial Traditional Only 3-D shoot this upcoming July 24-25th, 2010. This shoot is being held in memory of Kyle Nardinger who was killed this past July 9th by a dead fall tree while setting up for a club 3-D event. Kyle was 29 years old when the accident happened. Even at that young age he was a died in the wool traditional archer, starting at the age of 8. He was consumed with traditional archery – he made his own bows, arrows, fletching, strings, etc.. He shared his knowledge freely with those around him and helped many people experience the flight of the arrow, the outdoors and doing things the right way. Kyle was a positive role model to the youth in our club and they seemed to gravitate towards him.

The proceeds from this shoot are being put into our clubs Youth Education Scholarship fund. Also, all youth 17 and under shoot for FREE!!!

This event is being held at Ahlman’s Gun Shop 2 miles north of Morristown, MN. This site has an 1800’s fort and a cowboy town for added appeal while having numerous trails for us to use. We are planning many fun and exciting things with this shoot. Many of the shots came from some notes we found of Kyle’s on how he would have set a shoot up. We have several moving and pop-up targets, such as running deer, jumping carp, strutting turkey’s and others. We are planning to have aerial shooting on Saturday morning. Free primitive camping is available in the 1800 fort area. It is our hope that we will be able to set the shots up in a challenging way but also so you don’t lose and break arrows in the process. There will be 40+ targets (mostly Rinehart) with some novelty targets thrown in.

Many details are yet to be worked out, but we can assure you that this will be a great shoot and it’s for a great cause. If you could mark your calendars for July 24th-25th that would be great. Thanks – Brian Clausen

See Attached Flyer - Also.

Adults : $12.00, Youth 17 & Under : FREE
2nd Time through is half price.

Directions: I-35 to exit 56. Then a left on MN 60 west. Go 10 miles, then
right on C.R.16 and follow signs. 2 miles North of Morristown, MN.

For questions, contact info@faribaultarchery.org; or Brian Clausen @ (507) 333-2324 or (507) 330-1539 cell; or Kurt Hildebrandt @ (507) 685-2404. - http://www.faribaultarchery.org - We look forward to seeing you!]]>
The Faribault MN Archery Club is holding the 1st annual Kyle Nardinger Memorial Traditional Only 3-D shoot this upcoming July 24-25th, 2010. This shoot is being held in memory of Kyle Nardinger who was killed this past July 9th by a dead fall tree while setting up for a club 3-D event. Kyle was 29 years old when the accident happened. Even at that young age he was a died in the wool traditional archer, starting at the age of 8. He was consumed with traditional archery – he made his own bows, arrows, fletching, strings, etc.. He shared his knowledge freely with those around him and helped many people experience the flight of the arrow, the outdoors and doing things the right way. Kyle was a positive role model to the youth in our club and they seemed to gravitate towards him.

The proceeds from this shoot are being put into our clubs Youth Education Scholarship fund. Also, all youth 17 and under shoot for FREE!!!

This event is being held at Ahlman’s Gun Shop 2 miles north of Morristown, MN. This site has an 1800’s fort and a cowboy town for added appeal while having numerous trails for us to use. We are planning many fun and exciting things with this shoot. Many of the shots came from some notes we found of Kyle’s on how he would have set a shoot up. We have several moving and pop-up targets, such as running deer, jumping carp, strutting turkey’s and others. We are planning to have aerial shooting on Saturday morning. Free primitive camping is available in the 1800 fort area. It is our hope that we will be able to set the shots up in a challenging way but also so you don’t lose and break arrows in the process. There will be 40+ targets (mostly Rinehart) with some novelty targets thrown in.

Many details are yet to be worked out, but we can assure you that this will be a great shoot and it’s for a great cause. If you could mark your calendars for July 24th-25th that would be great. Thanks – Brian Clausen

See Attached Flyer - Also.

Adults : $12.00, Youth 17 & Under : FREE
2nd Time through is half price.

Directions: I-35 to exit 56. Then a left on MN 60 west. Go 10 miles, then
right on C.R.16 and follow signs. 2 miles North of Morristown, MN.

For questions, contact info@faribaultarchery.org; or Brian Clausen @ (507) 333-2324 or (507) 330-1539 cell; or Kurt Hildebrandt @ (507) 685-2404. - http://www.faribaultarchery.org - We look forward to seeing you!]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430102 Thu, 12 Nov 2009 15:25:05 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430102
Took this strange little buck with a 54# at 27" osage selfbow at about 6 yards. Cedar shaft with 160 grain trade point....



This large Oklahoma yote came running by my stand at about 8 yards or so with an osage longbow, 58# at 27" with some carbon prototypes I have been working on. Had to swing and release as he went by, taking him square between the shoulders...

]]>
Took this strange little buck with a 54# at 27" osage selfbow at about 6 yards. Cedar shaft with 160 grain trade point....



This large Oklahoma yote came running by my stand at about 8 yards or so with an osage longbow, 58# at 27" with some carbon prototypes I have been working on. Had to swing and release as he went by, taking him square between the shoulders...

]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430100 Sun, 01 Nov 2009 19:11:17 -0700 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430100 Articles page.

Any suggestions or requests?]]> Articles page.

Any suggestions or requests?]]> http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430099 Thu, 22 Oct 2009 16:10:13 -0600 http://www.tradarchersworld.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3430099 I just finished a nice bow from a piece of locust - 62" and about 45/50 lbs at 26".
So far it has held together.
I am in the midst of making a similar bow from a cherry wood board that I got from a friend. Nice grain. It is 66" from nock to nock and two inches wide for most of the limb length.
The picture is with a small camera and about as good as I can do w/o a wide angle lens. [img][/img]

So far the limbs are bending evenly. Using the tillering stick and a scale, I have not been able - for fear of breaking the thing - to get close to my desired weight (I'd like to get 45/50 lbs at 28 inches).
I'm afraid that if I keep pressing, the bow will crack - though, so far it is even. I'm afraid that, if I take off more so as to make it bend more, I will weaken it.
Is this the bowyer's dilemma or is there a sensible and easy way?
Or....am I missing something. (have read through the Bowyer's Bible).
Pete]]> I just finished a nice bow from a piece of locust - 62" and about 45/50 lbs at 26".
So far it has held together.
I am in the midst of making a similar bow from a cherry wood board that I got from a friend. Nice grain. It is 66" from nock to nock and two inches wide for most of the limb length.
The picture is with a small camera and about as good as I can do w/o a wide angle lens. [img][/img]

So far the limbs are bending evenly. Using the tillering stick and a scale, I have not been able - for fear of breaking the thing - to get close to my desired weight (I'd like to get 45/50 lbs at 28 inches).
I'm afraid that if I keep pressing, the bow will crack - though, so far it is even. I'm afraid that, if I take off more so as to make it bend more, I will weaken it.
Is this the bowyer's dilemma or is there a sensible and easy way?
Or....am I missing something. (have read through the Bowyer's Bible).
Pete]]>